


Drunk and Boarish

by Scrunchles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Anonymous Sex, Bathroom Sex, Exhibitionism, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-01-28 04:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12597972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: They had started kissing at the back of the bar, brought together by nearly half an hour of lingering glances, a few words, and Jamie’s incorrigible attraction to anyone who could stand him for five minutes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Kinktober 2017 Day 24: Exhibitionism. I would love to continue this AU sometime.

Jamie is tall and thin.  He’s used to being the larger person, the one who hitches legs up around his waist and shoves open the door to the loo.  
  
The man he’s got his arms around is far bigger than he is.   
  
He’s a head and a half taller than Jamie and four time broader than him.   
  
He’s got a black shirt on that stretches tight across his massive stomach.  It’s ridden halfway up beneath the buck of Jamie’s hips, and he can feel the slick slide of the “SECURITY” lettering across the back with his flesh hand.  His prosthetic hand is locked around the man’s neck.  If the joints pinch his skin, the colossal man doesn’t give any sign.   
  
They had started kissing at the back of the bar, brought together by nearly half an hour of lingering glances, a few words, and Jamie’s incorrigible attraction to anyone who could stand him for five minutes.  Now, the man was trying to angle them into one of the stalls for a little more privacy, but Jamie wasn’t having any of that.  He released the man’s neck and shoulders to grab the top of the stall door and bit the man’s bottom lip as he pulled away.   
  
“No stall,” he pants, licking the mix of spit from his lips and grinning.  “Fuck me on the sink.”   
  
The man snorts and shrugs before taking Jamie over to sit on the long metal counter that was just the right height for the towering man’s crotch to come right up to.   
  
“Fucking perfect,” Jamie breathes, scooting back on the counter and beginning to work his belt open.  “You do this often?  I love to fuck in bathrooms.  Gives a nice rush and pisses off the blokes what walk in.”   
  
The man helps him pull his pants down and off silently while Jamie starts unbuckling the heavy buckle at the front of the man’s belt, still chattering away.  While he works on undoing the man’s pants and shoving them down, lube appears from a back pocket and large hands shift his leg up to begin teasing him open.   
  
“Don’t have to work me much, I like being a little raw when I’m rawed,” Jamie tells him, following it up with a strained giggle as he stretches around the finger.   
  
“Facing or no?” The man asks, reapplying the lube and working his second finger in a little more roughly.   
  
Jamie groans and reaches up to brace his hands on the exposed pipes above the sink.  “Facing.  You’re too fucking beautiful to— Ah!”   
  
The man scissors his fingers suddenly and Jamie grabs onto the pipe hard.   
  
“Don’t break those, they’re a bitch to fix,” the man tells him, but he doesn’t stop the rough fingering.   
  
“You a plumber _and_ a security guard?” Jamie asks, flexing his flesh hand on the pipe and giving it a little testing tug.  It seemed to be pretty sturdy.   
  
The man grunts noncommittally and draws his fingers out before beginning to work himself back up while lubing his cock.   
  
Jamie levers himself on the pipe to shift closer and the man looks up at the creaking sound it makes.     
  
“I’m serious,” he tells him, shoving Jamie back against the mirror with one hand and dragging his ass forward with the other so that the pipe was just out of reach.   
  
“Right, right,” Jamie says, grinning and holding up his hands to show just how harmless he was.  “Nothing ruins a fuck like a shower.”   
  
The man’s lips twitch, but he stays relatively stone faced as he pulls Jamie’s legs wide enough to fit his girth and guides himself up against Jamie’s ass.   
  
“On second thought, maybe you should pull down,” the man suggests as he begins to press in.   
  
Jamie wants to keep talking.  He really, really wants to keep talking.  This is fucking clever, fun banter if there was any, and he wants to _keep fucking talking_ .   
  
He can’t get anything out past the groan of pain.   
  
The head is hard.  He had seen it when the man was jerking himself to get it back up, but he had underestimated how big it actually was.  It was probably because the man’s hands were so fucking huge.   
  
Jamie groans, deep and ringing in the concrete room.  He pants and gasps.  He slams his head back against the mirror hard enough to make himself see stars and the man finally stops pushing.   
  
“Don’t fucking brain yourself.  You need more prep?” He asks.   
  
“Nuh-uh,” Jamie says, shaking his head and trying to brace his elbows on the mirror so that he was in a more comfortable position.  His left arm is sweaty and his right one is plastic and metal, so he keeps slipping.   
  
The man bucks and Jamie lets out a loud groan, slumping back down and feeling his neck pop a little.   
  
The man takes a deep breath before he drags Jamie back upright and directs his hands up to the pipe again.  He doesn’t say a damned thing about all the noise, and Jamie is pretty sure he sees a smirk on the man’s thick lips when he thrusts again and Jamie chokes out a groan that ends in a high note as the head finally pops in.  The next shallow thrust is much smoother.   
  
“Ah… fuck… fuck finally…” Jamie gasps, panting and gripping the pipe until his knuckles ache.  “Now you can fuck me proper.”   
  
“Don’t break the pipe,” the man warns him.   
  
“Fuck me,” Jamie replies, pushing his heels into the man’s back and pulling at the pipe to buck against the man’s cock.   
  
Enormous hands grip Jamie’s hips, fingers enveloping his ass cheeks and thumbs nearly touching the coarse line of blonde hair that leads down from his navel.   
  
Every thrust is easier.  It’s so much easier.  Jamie holds onto the pipe and lets his head roll back as he’s fucked.   
  
Footsteps pass by the door, but it doesn’t open, and the man fucking his ass doesn’t hesitate an instant.  Jamie grins and his hips buck on their own, rolling down on the thick cock working it’s way deeper into him.  It was so hot.  It was _so fucking hot_ .   
  
“Mmm… someone might walk in,” Jamie mutters, finding their pants and groans not enough to fill the space.   
  
The man doesn’t reply, just keeps thrusting into him, gripping his hips like he might try to interfere with the steady jolt of it.   
  
“You could get fired,” Jamie tells him, pleasure aching through his gut with every thrust.   
  
A short chuckle rumbles deep in the man’s chest.     
  
“You could!” Jamie insists.   
  
“Not… likely…” the man says between thrusts.   
  
Jamie shivers and brings his flesh hand down to jerk at his cock, but the man pushes it away to wrap his massive fingers and palm around Jamie instead.   
  
“F-fuck…” Jamie groans, grabbing onto the pipe again and wrenching at it.  It groans again but doesn’t move.   
  
The door creaks, and the man’s hand twists around Jamie.   
  
“What—“   
  
Whatever the intruder says is drowned out as blood rushes through Jamie’s ears and he doesn’t bother choking back the desperate, cursing noise he makes as he comes onto the black t-shirt still riding up the man’s stomach.   
  
He doesn’t stop fucking Jamie, doesn’t even acknowledge that anyone opened the door.   
  
Jamie turns his head to see a chump looking like he’s weighing whether he wants to take a piss in the urinal or outside.  He flashes him a grin and sticks out his tongue as the man fucking him quickens his pace and grips him hard enough to bruise.   
  
The man reluctantly walks over to the urinal, stands awkwardly trying to piss long enough for Jamie to get bored watching him try, then leaves.   
  
Over the slap of skin, Jamie can’t tell if he was successful or not.     
  
When the man pulls out and finishes onto the counter beneath him, Jamie decides he doesn’t care.   
  
He grins and lets go of the pipe to wrap his arms around the man’s neck again, pressing kisses to his flushed neck and licking the salt from beneath his ear.   
  
“Good thing we’re not in a place to cuddle,” the man said, though his hands were warm against Jamie’s back.   
  
“Thanks for the fuck,” Jamie says, feeling his cheeks flush as he drops down from clinging to the man and grabs his pants, carefully slipping them back over his boots and up his thin hips.   
  
When he looks up, the man is done back up and wiping Jamie’s come off his shirt, leaving a smear.   
  
Jamie turns to leave, but feels a pang of near guilt at the door.  “Sure you won’t get fired for that?” he asks.   
  
The man snorts and wipes the come on his jeans before following Jamie to the door and pushing it open past Jamie’s shoulder.   
  
“I better not,” the man says, leaning down a bit to bite down on a mark he’d left while they were still in the bar, before Jamie had started rubbing against him like a hungry animal.  “I own the place,” he tacks on before he walks past Jamie and back out into the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Cancel's reward for March and April!
> 
> Thanks for your support as well as Skadi, Shanks and Muppet!

The aching love bite and bruises the man had left on Jamie faded after a few days, and he is desperate for more once he can’t see dark circles on his pale skin anymore.  He returns to the Drunk and Boarish every night for a week before he finally breaks down and asks for the owner—or the security guard.  Whatever he was.  “The big bloke—the _really big one_ ,” is how he describes him to the bartender.

“Oh.  Sorry, Mako’s not here, he was fired,” the guy at the bar tells him.  It’s a slow night, not like the first time he’d been there.  Everything is different about the bar.  Music and lights have been replaced with a soft mix of slow jams and warm, comfortable lighting.  The press of bodies is now an after-work party and a few down-on-their-luck day drinkers who look like they’re about ready for a shower and a bed.  It’s so empty that Jamie’s voice echoes when he speaks.

“What?! I thought he owned the place!” Jamie says.

The man behind the counter shrugs and leans on the bar.  He’s about average height, pale and thin with gray eyes, dark, bushy eyebrows to rival Jamie’s own, and green hair.  “Maybe he was trying to impress you?  If you are the bathroom man, it stands to reason.”

Jamie sighs and slumps onto one of the stools.  “Shit, that sucks.”

The man hums his agreement.

Jamie looks up at the man curiously, his voice a little hopeful. “But he talked about me?”

All he gets is a soft smirk and a shrug, like it is a sworn secret.

A few silent seconds pass while Jamie feels a smidgen of guilt and a heap of disappointment.  He had been hoping to see him again.  Maybe hook up or talk his way into a date.  He is Jamie’s type and seems to like the same kind of filthy sex bullshit Jamie does.  The bartender sets a bottle on the counter, drawing Jamie’s attention back up from the lacquered wood of the bar.  “Here, first one is on the house,” he says.

Jamie tries to smile as he takes the bottle.  “Don’t want to go getting you fired too, mate.”

He laughs and winks at Jamie.  “That is highly unlikely.”  

Jamie has a few beers and talks with the bartender, his disappointment healing as he drinks and socializes.  The bartender’s name is Genji and he first visited Australia to walk the beaches and see what extreme sports they had to offer.  He scubaed, surfed and sand boarded his way through every nook and cranny of the southern half of Australia until he met his boyfriend and the co-owner of the bar.  Halfway through a story about Genji’s most recent visit to Nambung National Park, where he nearly broke his wrist and got still-healing sandburn on his face, Jamie sees an unmistakable silhouette emerge from the door to the back half of the bar and grins, his attention immediately redirected.

“Genji, where did— _fuck_.”  Mako cuts off with a heavy sigh and then shoots Genji a glare.

Jamie flutters his prosthetic fingers at Mako and drains the last of his beer before chirping a cheerful, “ ‘ello!”

Mako ignores him and smacks the back of Genji’s head with the clipboard.  “I told you to make him go away.”

“Oh, is that what you meant when you said, ‘tell him I got fired?’ “ Genji asks, grinning and taking a large step back from the massive man—who _does_ appear to be his boss.

Jamie plays with the bottle for a few seconds of their bickering before standing up from the stool.  “Y’know what? You could have just told me it was a one off, mate.  Didn’t have to be all covert lying ops or anything.”

Mako turns his attention back to Jamie and purses his lips.  

“Oh, he would _love_ to date you,” Genji tells Jamie. Mako raises his clipboard to smack him again, but Genji hops over the bar and grabs Jamie by his upper arms, putting him between them.  “He just thinks he’s too old and dumb and works too hard.”

Mako slowly lowers the clipboard, and while he’s not blushing, the look on his face gives some credence to Genji’s words.   The first ones, anyway.  “Fuck you, I’m a prime specimen. I’m just not looking to date at the moment,” he says firmly.

Jamie shrugs.  “Don’t have to.  Don’t know if I really want to after all this, bein’ honest.  Felt like shit I might have actually gotten ya fired.”

Mako glares at Genji past Jamie’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t have felt like shit for long if someone did what he was fucking told.”

Genji shrugs and slides toward the door to slip into the back and leave them alone.

Jamie picks at the label on his beer and chews on the inside of his cheek, the silence chafing at him, but he doesn’t want to hurt his chances by babbling the first thing that comes to mind—

“You’re really hot.  And fun.  And I would hook up with you again even though you tried to have your bartender lie about you getting fired to ghost me... If that’s all you can handle,” he tacks the last bit on a little desperately, remembering Mako’s hands digging into his hips and the way he gruffly told him not to yank on the pipes.  Jamie might have to visit the loo before he leaves.  If he gets shut down, a sad wank will cure all his ills.

Mako snorts and scratches the side of his belly with the clipboard.  “I’m not going to make excuses for why I can’t fuck you when you want it,” he says, finally.  “Leave your number, and if I want it, I’ll call you.”

Jamie can’t feel his cheeks and his heart may have stopped beating.  It’s not a no.  Jamie hops over the bar and presses up against Mako, hoping to remind him of how public and intimate they had been the last time.  He’s more than willing to fuck in the middle of the bar if that’s what it takes.  He pulls the clipboard, still clutched in Mako’s wonderfully giant hand, around so that he can see it and then unclips the pen from the top to scribble his number on the edge of an inventory sheet.  

“Call me anytime.  I’ll drop everything and come,” Jamie says with a wide grin.

Mako snorts, but doesn’t pull away; he has plenty of room behind him, but he chooses to stay where he is, with Jamie pressed against him.  “I bet you will.”

Jamie grins and leans up to press his lips to Mako’s, but then decides that his cheek is more playful. “Guess you gotta get back to work,” he says.

Mako nods, though he doesn't pull away.

Jamie shoves the sudden urge to make out with Mako and dry hump him in the middle of his own bar away and finally draws back.  “Have a good day, mate.  Can’t wait for your call.”

Literally.  Jamie hops back over the bar and makes a beeline for the bathroom.  His pants are so tight, he thinks the zipper might not work properly and he’ll have to rub off through his pants.  Jamie shivers and leans back against the door as soon as he’s through it, imagining Mako following him, pinning him to it, wrenching his button and fly open and using his big, warm hand to pull Jamie off.

He groans softly as he finally touches himself, pumping eagerly before realizing that if he took it slow and easy it would be more true to character.  And he would have a higher chance of Mako following him in and doing it himself.

Jamie bites his lip and slowly touches himself, starting with his fingertips gently squeezing the head and then slowly massaging them down his shaft to the base.  He cups his balls and gives a squeeze, then works his way back up to his head and takes a careful hold again.  He arches off the door and into his palm with a gasp, imagining Mako following him in, shoving him against the sink again, and fucking Jamie until those dumb pipes break.

Jamie groans again.  It echoes around the room and he slides down the door as his legs get weak and his gut begins to twist.  He suddenly realizes that there are feet under one of the stalls.  Jamie drops another inch and he sees thickly strapped leather sandals that are barely a shade lighter than the feet they contain.

He closes his eyes and lets out a gasp as he comes, his ass hitting the ground as he slips all the way, his noodly legs not about to save him from the floor.  He pants and laughs softly as he sits on the floor and waits for the other man to come out of the stall. 

“Are you done?” A well-groomed, accentless voice asks.  

Jamie clears his throat and wipes his come on his jeans as another giggle slips out.  “Yeah,” he says, once he can get the words out.  “Sorry, mate, thought I was alone.”

A demur hum responds as the toilet flushes and Jamie suddenly realizes that there’s two pairs of wheels in the stall as well. The man makes a noise of effort and then his feet pivot one hundred and eighty degrees.  The stall unlocks and a young man who looks around Jamie’s age wheels himself out.  He has a series of dots on his head and his hair is shaved down close to his scalp.  He is thin and clothed in rich linen.

“Please refrain from masturbating in this bar again,” the man tells him as he wheels himself over to the sink and washes his hands.  

“Sure, sorry, mate.” Jamie has no intention of listening to anything this person has to say about where he can whack off.  He carefully tucks his dick away and awkwardly works on levering himself up onto his feet.  Once he gets to a place he can get his prosthetic under him, he’s fine, and when he looks up again, he sees the other man watching him with an amused smile.

“What?” he asks, only self conscious now that his dick is away and he’s not lying on the floor of a bar bathroom.  

“Mako did not mention that you had prosthetics,” the man says, looking at them curiously.  “I don’t believe I’ve seen such sophisticated ones before.”

Jamie grins and reaches over to pop his right arm off with a practiced wrench.  “Yeah, I bought some lame cheapo stock limbs and redid ‘em to have better response times and to look cooler.  I’ve got this one up to nearly natural movement speeds,” he explains, holding the arm out for the man to look at. “Though not nearly good enough for jerkin’ off yet.”

The man takes the arm with ginger grace, not giving Jamie’s raunchy joke a blink.  He tests the tensile of the joints and runs his thumb across the material on the inside of the fingers and palm that helps Jamie pick things up without slipping or having to hold them so tightly they might break.  “Also adjusted the pressure distribution so that there’s more of a range between not ‘gonna hold it,’ ‘gripped but it might slip at any moment,’ and ‘oops, you broke the glass!’ “

Another hum, but the way that he’s looking at the limb shows that he’s interested in what Jamie is saying and that he’s _smart_.  Jamie can practically see his mind moving as he turns the limb over again.  “How long did it take you to make the changes?” he asks.

“Eh… Time was a little wobbly and I only had one reliable hand and there was lots of trial and error, so a few days of focus.  Maybe a full twenty-four hours.” Jamie shrugs.

“Interesting.” The man hands the arm back and gives Jamie a warm smile.  “Let me know if you’re interested in doing some good with that talent.  I have a foundation that could use such responsive work.”

Jamie snaps the arm back into place and snorts.  “Dunno anything about foundations, mate.  I’m a freelancer, I only work for pay.”

The man hums and then begins wheeling himself toward the door.  “I did not say it would be unpaid.”

“If I am interested,” Jamie says, tempted by the challenge and the prospect of doing something he actually enjoys rather than the bland television and phone fixes he’s been doing lately.  “How do I let you know?”  He has a eerie feeling he knows exactly where to find this person.  A sense of déjà vu suddenly rearing its head.

“I’m here on Tuesday and Thursday evenings,” the man says.  “Or you can get my number from Mako.”  His tone is light and almost teasing in a weird, placid sort of way.

“Sure,” Jamie says, nodding.  Apparently this guy is Genji’s boyfriend and Mako’s cohort in the bar.  

“Have a good day,” the man says before wheeling out the door.  

“Sure,” Jamie repeats, absolutely unsure what to do with any of the information he’s gotten today.  Mako wants to date him but also doesn’t.  They’re now set up for extremely one-sided bootycalls.  Genji’s boyfriend sat and listened to him wank for several minutes without saying anything and then politely asked him not to do it in the bar again.  Jamie is considering listening to him because he was nice and might have offered him a job...

Jamie sighs and runs his flesh hand through his hair.  Well, he’ll think about working for the kind sandal man while he waits for Mako to call him.  If the stubborn bartender doesn’t, then he can come ask Mako for his co-owner’s number as an excuse to see him.

Before Jamie leaves, he takes a picture of the sink and pipes as spank bank material.  Just in case he doesn’t get to fuck in this bathroom again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To his credit, he makes it at least four days before he ends up sitting at the bar and waiting for Mako to give him his attention. Mako finishes mixing the three drinks he was working on before finally turning to Jamie with an amused smirk.
> 
> “You’re late,” he says.
> 
> Jamie goes from grinning to frowning in an instant. “What?!” he squawks. “Can’t be late when you don’t call or text me, mate!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the August updates. Once again brought to you by Cancel~

Waiting for Mako to call him is torture.  Jamie tries to focus on his prosthetic hobby, but it’s hard when all he can think about is big hands and stubbled cheeks.

To his credit, he makes it at least four days before he ends up sitting at the bar and waiting for Mako to give him his attention.  Mako finishes mixing the three drinks he was working on before finally turning to Jamie with an amused smirk.

“You’re late,” he says.

Jamie goes from grinning to frowning in an instant.  “What?!” he squawks.  “Can’t be late when you don’t call or text me, mate!”

Mako snorts and sets a beer up on the bar for him before walking off.  Jamie stares after him before reluctantly settling down and taking a drink of his beer.  He munches on a few pretzels and plays a mobile game between drinking and watching Mako do his job.  After a few beers, Mako switches him to club soda and lime.  Jamie doesn’t comment, just sips the bubbly and continues to watch the other man work.  

He’s hotter than Jamie remembers him.  When he raises his shaker to mix a drink, his biceps and his thick forearms flex with the movements.  His hands are so big Jamie wants Mako to take his head between them and crush him.

“If you get drool on the bar, he will make you clean it up,” Genji says from beside him.

Jamie jumps and spins on his barstool to see that Genji is sitting on the seat beside him.  “How long have you been there?” he asks.

“Long enough,” is all he says.

“You’re almost as cryptically pleasant as your boyfriend,” Jamie tells him.

Genji laughs lightly and winks at him.  “I am a good student.”

“Kinky,” Jamie says.  “I’m into older men too, if you couldn’t tell.”

Genji laughs again; this time he tosses his head back and it’s heartier.  “I am actually the older one,” he tells Jamie.  “Zenyatta is only twenty.”

Jamie furrows his brow because Genji has to be fucking with him.  “What? No way.  He acts like he’s pushing past thirty and you’re close to my age.”

Genji has an easygoing grin as he leans forward.  “Would you like to bet money on that?” he asks.

Jamie narrows his eyes at Genji and tries to discern his motives.  If he was lying, then he would be out of the money for a joke.  If he was telling the truth, Jamie would lose a piece of his precious entertainment budget.  

“A fiver on you being full of it,” Jamie says.

Genji shrugs and pulls his wallet out to show Jamie his ID.  “Your loss,” he tells him.

“Hooley dooley, you’re ten years older ‘n’ I am!” Jamie says, studying the birth year on the permanent resident card closely.  

“Genji,” Mako’s volume is normal, but his voice still cuts through the low buzz of the busy bar.  

“Gotta go take over,” Genji says, hopping off of his stool as he slides his ID back into his wallet.  “I’ll take that fiver as a tip before you head out with Mako.”

Jamie grins and tosses a fiver in the tip jar and a twenty on the bar for his beers as Mako disappears into the back.  He invites himself behind the bar and then into the back right after Mako.  If Genji thinks he’s going to head out with the massive bartender, he must know something Jamie doesn’t.  Jamie’s _hoping_ he knows something.  

When Jamie enters the back, he sees cases and kegs lining the walls.  Walking farther back, there are two sets of double doors.  One of them has a hand truck next to it and there’s the low rumble of Mako’s voice through the second set.  When he opens one, a broad, tanned, freckled back meets him.

“Oooooh, didn’t know what I was missing,” Jamie coos, reaching forward only to have his hand swatted away.  Zenyatta was sitting beside the door he opened.

“I can appreciate your attraction to Mako, but I don’t trust you to stop at touching him,” Zenyatta says coolly.

“Hey!” Jamie pouts.  “You’re basically a child compared to me, mate.  Rack off!”

Mako’s giant hand slams Jamie back against the door jamb and he leans in close.  “Show my partner some respect or you’ll never see this bar or my cock again.”

Jamie has trouble focusing on what Mako’s saying due to his sudden lightheadedness from all the blood in his body rushing to his cock.  Mako seems to realize this because he lets go and Jamie struggles not to drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

“Sure, sure,” Jamie simpers.

“Repeat what I just said back to me,” Mako growls.

Zenyatta chuckles softly and pats Mako’s arm.  “Mako, it’s fine.  Respect can be gained in many ways.  I would prefer a nonviolent approach with Jamison.”

Jamie grins up at Mako dumbly.  “Screw nonviolence, that was _hot as fuck_.”

Mako turns to Zenyatta and motions at Jamie with a raised brow.

Zenyatta merely smiles at him in a creepy, serene way and Jamie sees his youth a bit in the expression, yet he still can’t believe he’s five years older than this bloke. Zenyatta co-owns a bar, runs some kind of foundation, _and_ has a committed relationship with a nice guy like Genji.

Jamie is a massive fuck up in comparison.

“Some men command respect while others crave attention, Mako,” Zenyatta finally says after what appears to be careful deliberation.  “Who are you to tell a bird to swim or a fish to fly?”

Mako sighs heavily and then turns back around to grab his shirt.

“What the fuck does that even _mean_?” Jamie asks.

“It means that you will come to respect me in your own time,” Zenyatta says as he wheels past Jamie and out the second door.

“I only understand half of what he says most of the time,” Mako admits, once Zenyatta has left.  “He’s rarely wrong, though.”

“Yeah?” Jamie asks.  “Seeing quite a bit of that myself.  Would _love_ to get in a—“

“Think about your mum cooking or something,” Mako tells him.  “It’s a long ride to my apartment and if you’re hard during it, it’ll be torture.”

Jamie grins and bounces closer to Mako.  “It sounds like I’m getting laid tonight, is that what you just said?”

Mako tugs his leather jacket on, then turns to face Jamie.  He’s close enough that the reedy young man can smell the musk of the worn-in leather.  He can’t wait to run his fingers over it and maybe tease Mako while they drive.  He doesn’t bother heeding Mako’s warning about being hard during the ride; if he has to jerk himself off in the car or truck—Mako seems like a truck guy, really—he’s confident he’ll be ready to go again by the time they reach Mako’s place.

Mako doesn’t say anything as he walks past Jamie, who follows him, and then out the back door.  When Jamie exits behind Mako, he sees why he might not want an erection while they drive.  Mako owns a massive motorcycle.  

Jamie adjusts himself nervously, but the prospect of clinging to Mako the whole way doesn’t help reduce his problem at all.  “Bloody hell, this is going to be a rough ride.”

“Told you,” Mako grunts as he swings his leg over and then kicks it on.

Jamie gets on behind Mako and though the vibrations of the bike feel nice for now, he knows he’s going to be chafed and aching by the time they stop.  He wraps his arms around Mako’s shoulders and rests his cheek against his back, breathes in the leather.  Worth the discomfort already.  He adjusts his grip on Mako and shifts so that he’s hovering over the seat.  Once he revs them forward, though, Jamie can’t maintain it and falls back to the seat.  Jamie is left shifting and bitching as they pull out of the back alley and onto the street.  Mako’s back lurches beneath Jamie’s cheek as he gives a loud, booming laugh.

Jamie can’t help chuckling a bit himself until his cock begins to ache for more than vibrations.  Rolling his hips is a brief and useless relief, so after the first few attempts, he accepts his fate and buries his face between Mako’s shoulder blades to suffer in a leather-scented, cold silence. His left arm and leg ache from the chill wind that cuts through his ratty hoodie and jeans, but his torso is warm where he’s pressed against Mako and he can smell an undercurrent of whiskey and tobacco that mixes well with the leather.

Jamie tilts his hips and whines softly when Mako slows down.  He grips Mako harder and feverishly looks around them.  High rise apartments loom to his left and right before they descend into a parking garage.  Jamie withdraws his left hand from holding onto Mako’s shoulder to paw at his crotch.

“Stop it,” Mako growls.  “I live here.”

“I need something,” Jamie protests.  “I can’t wait any longer—my prick might go on strike.”

Mako snorts and his warm fingers wrap around Jamie’s nearly freezing hand.  “You can tug off once we stop,” he tells Jamie.

Jamie leans his face against Mako’s back again and whines pathetically until they roll into a parking space.  Once they’re parked, Mako sets the stand and gets off.  He stands between Jamie and the entrance, close enough to block him from view, but not enough to touch him.

“Gonna help out?” Jamie asks hopefully.

Mako laughs and takes off his jacket.  He tugs it around Jamie’s shoulders and his musk surrounds Jamie before Mako’s hands drop back to his sides.  “That’s all the help you’ll get out of me.”

Jamie pouts, but his hands jerk his zipper down and he pulls his poor, neglected, abused prick out.  His fingers are still cold, but after some flexing and wiggling, he gets them back up to temp and begins working himself.  It doesn’t take much, between the ride, Mako’s smell, the heavy press of the jacket around his shoulders, and Mako’s greedy eyes staring down at him as he blocks Jamie from view of the entrance and elevators…

Jamie bites his bottom lip on a groan and slumps back against the seat of the bike as he comes in streaks across the cement between Mako’s boots.  He shivers and takes a deep breath as he keeps squeezing his cock, even after it stops leaking droplets of come.  Wave after wave of gratification sweeps through him with each squeeze and having come in such a public place with Mako watching him… Jamie tugs the jacket closer around him and closes his eyes for a moment.  He wants to be able to replay everything about this moment for the rest of his life.  Over and over again.  He might die of exhaustion and dehydration if he’s allowed alone with it.

Mako leans down and gently tucks his prick back in for him when a truck comes squealing round one of the turns.  He stays leaning forward to make the moment uncomfortably intimate for anyone who glances at them, then carefully drags Jamie back upright and leads him to the elevator.

“Normally I would make a joke about trusting you not to murder me,” Jamie tells Mako as they board the elevator and Mako jabs the 6.  “But you can murder me all you want after that.  It was fucking perfect.”

“Yeah?” Mako asks, watching the numbers climb. 

“Yeah.  Best tug I’ve ever had.  Hands down,” Jamie assures him.

“Well, I didn’t bring you here to murder you,” Mako replies as they reach his floor and get out.

“Yeah, brought me here to fuck the daylights out of me with no interruptions?” Jamie posits.

“Keep guessing.”

“Better fuck me while I’m here, otherwise I’ll feel used and unwanted,” Jamie warns him as Mako unlocks his door.

Mako chuckles.  “Yeah, I’m gonna fuck you,” he agrees.  “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll screech loud enough that my neighbors will hear,” Mako growls, his hands clamping around Jamie’s hips once they’re inside.  The door shuts on its own and Mako begins kissing Jamie’s neck and jaw.  

“I feel used and wanted,” Jamie sighs happily.  “You’re a bit of a dick, though,” he points out.

“Asked ‘em to keep it down twice,” Mako says and pushes Jamie toward a closed door.  Jamie opens it and a hard, thick gut pushes him through the doorway and then against the far wall.  Jamie numbly allows himself to be manipulated.  This was too much too fast.  He feels like he’s going to have a heart attack.

Mako grabs Jamie’s arms and shoves them up above his head.  Jamie can feel Mako’s massive prick pressing against his ass through their jeans.  “The super asked _me_ to settle down,” Mako snarls, reaching for lube and a condom from the bedside table.

“I’ll fuck you all night if I have to,” he says.  “I just want some fucking sleep most of the time, and they fuck like yowling cats.”

“I can fuck like a yowling cat,” Jamie promises, scrambling at the wall to keep his balance when one of Mako’s bucks knocks him off kilter.  

Mako pulls back long enough to push Jamie’s pants down and find his ass with a slick finger.  “You better.  Whether we fuck again depends on it.”


End file.
